


Won't Forget What I Did For Love

by DarchangelSkye



Category: American Idol RPF, Music RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Afterparty, Cross-Posted on Wattpad, Emotional, Gift Fic, Hugs, Love, M/M, Post-Finale, Present Tense, Press and Tabloids, Wordcount: 500-1.000, happy tears, request fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-22
Updated: 2015-05-22
Packaged: 2018-03-31 16:20:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3984733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarchangelSkye/pseuds/DarchangelSkye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>georgiehensley wanted some post-finale fic, and who am I to deny my fellow Beckiani minion? ;) And there I go again sticking Chorus Line lyrics into everything ^ #sorrynotsorry</p>
    </blockquote>





	Won't Forget What I Did For Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [georgiehensley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/georgiehensley/gifts).



> georgiehensley wanted some post-finale fic, and who am I to deny my fellow Beckiani minion? ;) And there I go again sticking Chorus Line lyrics into everything ^ #sorrynotsorry

Clark silently stands with the other singers as the cameras gather around Nick. Of course they've been gathering around him all night, but there's no way right now anyone is going to miss the traditional shot of the newest Idol signing his contract.

Nick has barely been given a minute to look the document over before Borchetta puts the pen in his hand, and Clark watches that hand move up and down to sign in his familiar looping scrawl.

"Presenting the newest member of the Big Machine family, Nick Fradiani!" Borchetta holds up Nick's arm the same way prizewinners hold their trophies, and the camera clicks are almost deafening.

Clark feels a gentle hand on his shoulder and turns his head to see Rayvon. "You OK, man?"

"Why has everybody been asking me that all night?" Clark asks in a soft voice of near-exasperation even when he's still smiling. No exaggeration, the first question out of every reporter's mouth who has approached him is 'how do you feel being the runner-up?' He's not stupid and knows that's par for the course, but still.

"Maybe because you've been looking all wistful and stuff?" Rayvon offers.

"I'm fine, really, it's not as a big a disappointment as I thought," is the simple reply, and Clark actually finds that to be true as he says it. If anything, his 'wistfulness' is simply adoration and pride for the man he loves. "Nick deserves to be happy, look at him," he looks back to where the older man is fielding questions once again, nodding to the reporter on the right, then the left, then back to the middle, an old pro already. "And there's still the tour, and the runner-up usually gets signed somewhere after that. I know what I'm gonna be doing." He's going to be fine.

Really. Just fine.

The mob disperses for the time being, and Clark feels Rayvon clap his shoulder before heading elsewhere to chat up whoever's caught his starstruck eye. Nick is approaching him now with a soft, wistful look of his own. It's the look that Clark has seen when he's looked back at older interviews; he's the one talking and Nick is focusing all his attention on him, eyes sleepy from the long night but lips smiling ever so lightly.

And now that Clark thinks about it, that look didn't really start until after they'd both made their feelings for each other known.

When Nick is finally close enough for a hug, the young man pulls him in, putting all of his love into that squeeze and for once not caring how anyone else might interpret it. Nick catches on and gets his arms around Clark's waist, holding tight to his jacket as if either of them could fly away at any moment.

"I'm so happy," Clark whispers softly enough for just his love to hear.

"I know, beb, I know," Nick whispers in return and gently rubs fingertips on the young man's back. "I still mean everything I said, you're an amazing person and I'm proud of you and I love you..." His voice tightens and Clark is certain that means he's going to cry again.

"Hey, hey," Clark murmurs and touches the older man's wrist, a tender signal for when a kiss isn't an option. "Don't worry about me, Nick. This is your night."

"Yeah, I know." Nick pulls away from the hug enough so he can discreetly dry his eyes with the heel of his hand. He's having a delayed reaction to all this emotion, Clark can tell that as much as anything.

"You wanna get something to eat?"

"Yeah, sure, thanks." He keeps an arm on the young man's shoulder for support, sniffs a little, then looks back up with that camera-ready smile. Clark can't deny that one makes him a little weak as well.

"There you go. Don't feel bad about feeling happy."

Nick shakes his head but is still smiling. "You and your way with words," he says as the two start off for the buffet table fit for royalty.

Yes, Clark can admit he does love bending around words, and another set of them comes to him in that moment. It might make Nick emotional again, but he's not doing it to be mean, purely out of love.

He bows his head a little and whispers, "I may not've won the Idol trophy, but you're my grand prize."


End file.
